


Moon Over Metropolis

by lscar123



Series: Between the Moon and Gotham City [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Murder Mystery, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, What canon you ask? All of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 10:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21052661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lscar123/pseuds/lscar123
Summary: There were two things Conner never expected to find after being dragged to a fundraising gala in Metropolis: Tim Drake, and a dead body falling from the sky.He found both.





	Moon Over Metropolis

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this as a birthday present for my friend Derick, and a bunch of ideas kinda came at me all at once. Not enough to turn it into a behemoth of a multi-chapter fic, but enough to make it a connected series of stories about Tim and Kon solving random, mundane crimes and eventually getting together. So now it's a series that will be updated whenever my inspiration strikes. 
> 
> The canon of this is literally just...random canon from everything. My Lois is basically written as Smallville Lois because Erica Durance is the best Lois and all her dialogue is in her voice in my head, Tim is Marcus To Tim Drake in my head because he's beautiful, and Conner is just a big lovable dude who wants Clark to be proud of him because Conner is just a big lovable dude.
> 
> There's no beta, and I edited this myself so if you see anything terribly wrong feel free to point it out, but otherwise enjoy! 
> 
> Also,
> 
> Happy Birthday, Derick!

Moon Over Metropolis

Conner strained against the confines of his suit and the awkward way his fake glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. The jacket was just a bit too small for him, and he tried to plan every move as carefully as he could to avoid the embarrassing disaster of it ripping and splitting up the back in a room full of entirely too many rich assholes for his taste.

There was only one slight problem with his plan: It was hard to carefully plan every move you make when you were being shepherded through a room filled with too many rich assholes by Lois Lane. Especially when Lois Lane’s version of shepherding you through a room is more comparable to being attached to a chain and dragged behind a semi-truck.

Which Conner should know since it happened to him last weekend.

“Try to keep up, Little Smallville.” Lois said, “We’re burning daylight.”

Conner looked out one of the enormous windows of the skyscraper they were in, his eyes zeroing in on the large full moon in the sky, “It’s 10pm, Lois.”

“Exactly.” Lois said, “We should have been here an hour ago!”

“It’s not my fault I couldn’t find a suit that fit!” Conner hissed, “I wasn’t exactly prepared for a night out like this.”

“You should always have a suit that fits, Conner.” Lois said, plucking a flute of champagne off the tray of a nearby traveling waiter who looked just as happy to be there as Conner did, “You never know when you’ll need to sneak into a fancy party to get a story, or when you’ll have to accompany a beautiful woman somewhere in one.”

Conner snorted a laugh, “Yeah right, a beautiful woma—”

Conner’s laugh was cut short by a small jolt of pain on his wrist. He wrinkled his brow as he looked down at Lois’ hand locked around his wrist, applying a worrying amount of pressure for a simple human.

“Watch yourself, Junior.” Lois narrowed her eyes, “You may be the super one, but I still know how to hit you where it hurts.”

Conner knew better than to push Lois, he’d seen the unfortunate side-effects of the few times Clark had done it. And while Lois didn’t have the ability to make him sleep on the couch for a week and a half straight, he didn’t doubt her ability to make his life miserable in many other creative ways.

“You said stuff doesn’t start to get interesting at these things until later in the night anyway.” Conner said, shrinking under Lois’ stare, “Something, something, alcohol. Something, something, hyper-competitive rich people.”

“True.” Lois said, shrugging, “But it’s always fun to see the buildup, or rather, the slow unraveling.”

Conner looked around the room properly for the first time. His eyes swept over the men in finely tailored suits, and women in dresses they’d wear for one night that probably cost more than a semester at Metropolis University. They were all gathered for a worthy cause, to raise funds for a new children’s care center at the Metropolis Medical Plaza, but Conner knew that a night like tonight was more about showing off rather than pure charity.

It was his first time properly attending an event like this. He’d floated alongside or above them a few times, mostly with a team, and always on the lookout for danger, so he’d never had a chance to fully process it before. He’d never had a chance to think about how a woman wearing a diamond necklace worth at least two fully stocked children’s centers could stand in a room and try to raise money for just one.

“I know, it pisses me off too.” Lois said, taking a sip of her champagne, she held the glass up in front of her face and twisted it back and forth, the bubbles inside rose and popped under the light from the chandelier above, “One of these glasses probably costs as much as a months rent.”

“How do you stomach it?” Conner asked.

Lois took another sip, then turned to him with a smile, “You suck it up and try to do better than any of them ever could, and you do it with less money than any of them have ever had in their life.”

“Suck it up…” Conner mumbled.

“Yes, Conner.” Lois rolled her eyes, “You suck it up, and you start doing that by not looking like Lex Luthor just whipped out his dick and pissed in your Fruity Pebbles in front of you.”

Conner choked on his spit, gagging at the mental image of that as he struggled to breathe, “Talking about Lex’s dick is _not_ a way to cheer me up.”

“Maybe not,” Lois winked as she patted him on the back, “but it got you to stop looking so angry, didn’t it?”

Conner pivoted to look at his reflection in the glass window, his face was still twisted terribly, like he’d stuck a few dozen sour candies in his mouth, “Because shocked and disgusted is so much better?”

“On you? Yes. You look less like you’re about to kick someone’s ass now.” Lois said.

Conner sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Someone please push me out a window.”

“Stop being dramatic.” Lois rolled her eyes, “Go circle the party, take some pictures.”

Conner looked around the room again, looked at all the people deep in conversation with check books on the table in front of them, “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Just tell the truth.” Lois shrugged, “Tell them you’re with the Art & Style section of the Daily Planet and you want a few pictures and a quote for tomorrows article about the event, they’ll eat it up. And if you’re really bored, drop a line about trying to decide on the feature photo for the color page, it’ll be like blood in the water after that.”

“Were you ever anything other than a reporter, or were you just born this ruthless?” Conner eyed her suspiciously.

Lois smirked, “I’ve had my fair share of odd jobs. Ask Clark about that one time I worked at a strip club, I still have that American flag bikini somewhere.”

Conner blanched, her turned slowly on one foot until his back was to Lois, “I’m gonna go now.”

“I was undercover, I wasn’t an actual stripper!” Lois hissed under her breath, loud enough for only Conner to hear, “Call me if you find anything juicy, and listen for the codeword!”

Conner didn’t reply, he just lifted his hand and gave her a thumbs up as he moved away from her as quickly as _humanly_ possible.

X

Forty-five minutes later, Conner didn’t have much to show for himself other than a few puff piece quotes, and an accidentally hilarious photo of a woman’s poodle drinking out of her champagne flute when she wasn’t looking. Conner still hadn’t figured out why the dog was standing on the table, or why it was even at the party in the first place.

He could still see Lois in the periphery of his vision, she was laying it on thick with the person she was talking to. Say what you want about Lois Lane, but she knew how to weaponize her reputation in the city. People were just as afraid of _not_ talking to her as they were of talking to her.

It was all getting to be a little too much for Conner though, he was never good with fake smiles and small talk, and it hadn’t gotten any better since he’d started to work freelance for the Daily Planet. Part of him, and it was a small part that he’d never tell anybody about, had been excited when Clark told him the Planet was looking for a new freelance writer. It would give him something to do between saving the world, and the fact that Clark trusted him enough to extend an offer like that meant more to Conner than he’d realized at the time.

Conner wasn’t so sure how much it meant now that he’d been writing pieces about dog competitions and hair shows for the last three months though. Clark hadn’t mentioned the whole Art & Lifestyle section when he first brought it up.

Still.

Conner shook his head as he pushed away from the table he was currently sitting at. His camera hung uselessly around his neck as he stood, and he plucked a champagne flute off a nearby table as he made his way for the open doors of the balcony on the right side of the room.

It was a chilly night, so the balcony was thankfully empty. There didn’t seem to be a lot of smoking going on either, the only thing in the ashtray was a half-smoked cigar. At least it was comforting that no one was developing lung cancer en masse at a children’s hospital event.

Conner took a step back and lined up a fittingly artsy shot of the lone cigar and took a single picture, and if he had his way it would be the front-page photo of the section.

Conner took a sip of champagne, then looked back over his shoulder. The black suits and colorful dresses all merged together into a sea of nothingness. As far as Conner was concerned, his job for the night was done. Lois would no doubt want to stay until the event dwindled down to its end, so Conner resigned himself to hiding out on the balcony.

It made him think of Tim. He’d listened to Tim talk about these kinds of events before, and it was always in a detached way. The way Tim described it was like the real Tim never even went to them, it was always Tim Drake the persona, not Tim the person.

Conner wondered how he did it.

The bite of cold in the air was pleasant, and the way the full moon hung in the sky draped a silvery light all across the balcony. The tall potted plants cast long, distorted shadows across the ground, and Conner felt freer than he had all night. He found himself wishing Tim was there, Conner wasn’t sure if he wanted him for advice or moral support, but Tim was always good to have around during the times when Conner got too in his head.

Conner pulled out his phone as he turned back to overlook the city. They were fairly high up in one of the taller buildings in the city, so the cars below looked more like moving lights than vehicles, but the ever-turning globe of the Planet still stood above him a few miles to the west. He opened up his message thread with Tim, intending to ask him for tips and tricks to survive the rest of the night, when he saw the photo that Tim had sent earlier in the day.

Conner had forgotten about it in the rush to get ready with Lois, but the bright green color of the cast around Tim’s newly broken wrist stood out against the dark wooden background of his bedroom floor. Tim’s only other message was a bright red angry face that was sent immediately after the picture, and it mirrored exactly how Conner had felt when he first saw the picture.

Even now, Conner had to consciously take a deep breath to calm himself before he snapped yet another phone in half.

Tim had told him about Red Robin’s fight with Bane last night, and how it ended with an unconscious Tim being carried out of the sewer with a broken wrist by Batman. The anger started to take him over again, Conner quickly shoved his phone back into his pocket to avoid an accent.

He wasn’t mad that Tim got hurt, that was always an inevitability. He knew the life they led, and they both knew the dangers of it, but Conner was furious that he hadn’t been there to help. It would have been easy if things were how they used to be, if Conner could just fly over and annoy the shit out of Tim whenever he wanted to like when they were younger, but Bruce made sure that couldn’t happen anymore.

Sure, Conner could just say fuck Batman and do whatever he wanted, but the few times he’d done that it ended up making life more difficult for Tim. That was something Conner didn’t want, so he’d abided by Batman’s rules for Gotham City.

Conner decided he might start breaking rules again, people he cared about always got hurt when he followed the rules.

“Dude.” A familiar voice came from behind Conner.

Conner froze, then turned slowly to see Tim standing in the archway of the balcony. Tim’s bright green cast stood in stark contrast to his black suit, his hair was parted slightly, but still hung down over his face in the way that Conner loved teasing him about.

A balcony in the middle of Metropolis was the last place Conner expected to see Tim.

“Tim?” Conner stared at him.

“Who else would I be?” Tim laughed.

“You’re not really here, are you?” Conner eyed him suspiciously, “You’re just here because I was thinking about you. Dammit, I was so not in the mood to deal with something like this tonight. Let’s see, who could do something like this…”

Conner trailed off, running through a list of known villains who could conjure some kind of image of Tim from his memory. The list was surprisingly long and detailed.

“You were thinking of me, huh?” Tim smirked, then took a step forward and rolled his eyes, “Don’t be a nerd, Conner.”

OK, so it was probably the real Tim.

“I always think of you.” Conner said, then quickly decided how dumb that sounded, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on bed rest or something?”

Tim laughed, “It’s just a broken wrist, Conner.”

“Just a broken wrist.” Conner’s voice was nasally and mocking as he could make it.

“I don’t sound like that.” Tim huffed, “Anyway, it was a last-minute thing that I just found out about this afternoon. The Martha Wayne Foundation wanted to make a donation to the medical plaza, and I figured I’d come to make it in person. I was going to come see you once I left, but I guess you already beat me here.”

“Lois needed a plus one while Clark is out saving the universe or something.” Conner said by way of an explanation.

“That’s why I didn’t see you on the guest list. Lois was there, but not you.” Tim said, leaning onto the balcony railing next to Conner.

The guest list, as far as Conner knew, was totally private and inaccessible.

“You hacked the guest list, didn’t you?” Conner smiled.

Tim was suspiciously quiet for a moment.

“Tim.” Conner prompted.

Tim finally sighed, “I totally hacked the guest list. I was bored on the flight.”

Conner laughed, shaking his head, “Never change, buddy.”

Tim braced his one free hand on the edge of the railing, the easily lifted himself up onto it. He turned mid-air until he was sitting perfectly balanced on the railing, looking directly at Conner. The added height of the railing brought Tim’s eyeline up almost directly to Conner’s.

Conner internally flinched when Tim raised himself up onto the edge of the railing, but Conner had been around Tim enough to know he didn’t have a thing about heights or terrifying displays of acrobatic ability. Tim could handle sitting on the edge of a building, and if something _did_ happen, Conner would catch him before he got anywhere near the ground.

“How’s the wrist?” Conner asked, gently taking Tim’s cast into his hand.

“A pain in the ass.” Tim huffed, “B has me benched until it heals.”

Conner rolled his eyes, “A travesty.”

“It’s just a broken wrist, Conner.” Tim sighed, “I’ve gone out with a lot worse than that before.”

Conner remembered the time Tim went on an entire away mission with a broken leg and didn’t tell anyone.

“I know, but there’s this thing called self-preservation.”

Tim scoffed, “Self-preservation is rich coming from Bruce Wayne.”

“True.” Conner agreed, “But just because he can’t follow his own advice doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

“Whatever.” Tim sighed, “I'll get over it, I just want to punch someone for a minute.”

Tim reached over and nimbly grabbed the flute of champagne from Conner’s fingers. Conner almost didn’t notice it, wouldn’t have noticed it if Tim’s pinky didn’t graze over his knuckles as Tim was pulling his hand back. Tim didn’t say anything, he just tipped the champagne back and drank it all in one shot.

“Hey!” Conner protested, “You’re not even old enough for that!”

Tim sat the glass down on the railing, then looked at Conner with an arched eyebrow, “Dude, you’re _literally_ six years old.”

“But My ID says I’m 21.” Conner said.

“So do half of mine.” Tim grinned.

“Whatever, just don’t get me arrested.” Conner laughed, then cringed, “God, Lois would _love_ to write that story.”

“What story are you writing? Tim asked.

Conner shook his head, “Just a puff piece for Art & Lifestyle, Lois is the one after bigger fish.”

“Plenty of fish here.” Tim said, “Do you need a quote for your article?”

“A quote?” Conner stared at him, “From you?”

“No, from Red Robin.” Tim rolled his eyes, “Of course, from me.”

“You, Tim Drake, want to give an actual quote to the media?” Conner blinked, “Me, being the media.”

“Why not?” Tim shrugged, “It’d annoy Bruce.”

“Ahh,” Conner hummed, “anything to annoy Bruce.”

“Annoy Bruce, help spice up an article for my best friend.” Tim smiled, “It’s a win-win.”

Conner looked at him again, and from what he could tell it seemed like Tim was being genuine with him. He took a step backwards, pulled a small notebook from his pocket, and flipped it open.

Conner cleared his throat, “What brings you here tonight, Mister Drake.”

Tim tipped his head back and turned it to the side, so the moonlight was only shining on half his face, “The Martha Wayne Foundation is obviously passionate about children, and that passion has always extended outside of Gotham. That’s why I’m proud to announce that Wayne Enterprises will match whatever is raised here tonight by 100%.”

“Seriously?” Conner’s jaw dropped.

“Like I said, it’ll annoy Bruce.” Tim licked his lips, then smiled.

Conner didn’t bother writing that part down.

“That’s very generous, Mister Drake.”

“Thank you, Mister Kent. That's very kind of you to say.”

Conner bit back a smile as his eyes shifted to the car on Tim’s wrist, “If I might ask, what happened to your wrist?”

Tim turned back to look at him, deadpan, “I broke it skiing in the Alps over the weekend.”

“Should I add the hashtag rich people problems?” Conner asked.

Tim shook his head, “It’s implied.”

Conner closed his notebook, “Thank you for making time to speak with me, Mister Drake.”

“I’ll always make time for my favorite reporter.”

Conner stared at him, blinking for a few seconds while his brain tried to form words. After several seconds, Conner’s eyes darted back to Tim’s arm.

The best Conner’s brain could muster was, “No one signed your cast.”

“What?” Tim asked, clearly confused.

“Your cast. No one signed it.” Conner pointed at it, “That’s a thing people do, right?”

“What movie did you see that in?” Tim laughed.

“I didn’t _see it in a movie_.” Conner glared at him, “Just because I’m only ‘six years old’ doesn’t mean I don’t know that people sign their friends casts when they get them. I’ve seen people with broken bones before, Tim.”

Tim held up his good hand, “Sorry. I was just joking.”

Conner sighed, then dragged a hand through his hair, “I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just feel…off, I guess.”

“These things can do that to you.” Tim said, angling his head back at the party.

Conner hopped up onto the railing next to Tim, he bumped his knee against Tim’s.

“I dunno how you do it, man.” Conner said, “I’d go crazy if I had to go to these things all the time.”

“Some would say I’m crazy, depending on who you ask.” Tim said.

“Nah, you’re not crazy.” Conner grinned, nudging Tim with his elbow, “You’re just Tim.”

The wind blew again, and Conner watched as it blew Tim’s hair into something the resembled the messy style he usually wore it in. Conner thought it suited him better.

“Hey, Kon?” Tim asked.

“Yeah?”

Tim lifted his cast and held it out towards Conner, “Wanna sign my cast?”

Conner couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of him, “You’re such a dick.”

“I’m serious!” Tim protested, “We’ve all broken so many bones that signing a cast gets old after a while. There’s only so many ways Jason can draw a penis on them, and Damian threatens to gut anyone who gets near his with a sharpie.”

“Dick?” Conner asked.

Tim rolled his eyes, “Dick signs his _own_ casts.”

Conner laughed, then pulled the pen out of his pocket. He was lucky it was a felt tip, it was the only thing he could grab quickly enough before Lois ripped him out of his apartment. Conner gently pulled Tim’s arm closer to him, chewed on his lip for a second as he tried to decide what to write.

He finally settled on: **_Get well soon – Kon_**

Conner didn’t have the best handwriting on a good day, and trying to make something legible over the grooves and ridges of a cast was a bigger challenge than he anticipated. In the end, the K in his name ended up looking more like an H, but it was the thought that counted.

Tim leaned forward, his arm still in Conner’s hand, and inspected the work, “A classic, I can dig it.”

Before Conner could respond, the lights went out.

A gasp came from inside as the ballroom was plunged into darkness. A quick look at the reflection in the glass of the windows across from them confirmed that the lights in the entire building were out. Tim immediately hopped down from the railing, Conner saw him crouch a little bit lower like he was waiting for an attack to come.

Conner jumped down and stood behind Tim, placing a hand on the small of Tim’s back, “It’s just a power outage, Tim.”

Tim shook his head, “It’s never _just_ a power outage, Kon.”

“Maybe in Gotham, but armed gangs don’t generally attack fundraisers in Metropolis. Unless they’re from Gotham.” Conner said, “I don’t remember the last time something bad happened at a fundraiser in Metropolis.”

Before Tim could respond, something heavy fell from the sky. It hit the ground with a wet thud, and Conner immediately looped his arms around Tim’s waist and pulled him backwards out of any possible danger.

“Conner.” Tim said, pointing down at the ground.

It wasn’t until Tim said something that Conner realized they were floating a few inches in the air.

“Sorry.” Conner landed; his arms still wrapped around Tim.

He looked towards the direction the sound of the impact came from. It was still dark inside, but the moonlight provided enough light for Conner to see what was unmistakably laying in front of them.

“Is that…” Conner trailed off.

“A body? Yep.” Tim turned his head and looked up at Conner, “What was it you were saying about Metropolis again?”

Tim was already moving towards the body before Conner could say anything. Conner saw the exact moment that Tim changed, when he went from fight mode and into detective mode. Tim crouched in front of the body, his back to the ballroom, and leaned in close to inspect it.

Conner angled his head towards the ballroom and focused his hearing; he listened for Lois and picked her out of the crowd.

Lois was whispering their code word, “Marshmallow, marshmallow!”

Conner decided to ignore her for now and to focus on Tim, who was currently leaning over the body.

The body, which Conner knew was a _dead_ body, because there was no heartbeat.

“Tim!” Conner hissed, “Tim, if someone sees you looming over her body…”

That would be a headline for Lois.

Tim ignored his sensible worry, which Conner expected, “Kon, give me your camera.”

“What?” Conner gasped, “Why?”

“Crime scene photos.” Tim said, “I want to get some before the rest of the party comes running out here to check if it’s a city-wide power outage.”

Conner knew better to argue with Tim, especially when he was like this. He slipped the camera from around his neck and handed it to Tim. He unhooked one of the sheer curtains that were drawn to the side of the archway that led out to the balcony, then stood directly behind Tim in an attempt to block out the flash of the camera.

“Is this really necessary?” Conner asked, “Do you think she jumped? We didn’t hear a scream like she was pushed.”

“She didn’t jump.” Tim said, his voice detached and analytical, “There’s blunt force trauma to the head that happened before she hit the ground."

“How can you tell?” Conner asked.

“Her body hit the ground on the right side, but there’s a gaping wound in the left side of her head?” Tim stared at Conner like it should have been obvious.

Which, sure, that made sense.

“Not everyone’s a detective, Tim!” Conner hissed.

Tim ignored him, he stood and circled the body once, then looked up towards where she came from. There were shards of glass around the body, which meant she’d been pushed through one of the windows higher up in the building.

On second thought, Conner was totally a detective.

“Kon, fly me up there.” Tim pointed up.

“Seriously?” Conner blinked.

“I want to find out where she came from,” Tim said, “see if there are any other clues.”

“Clues?” Conner repeated, “You realize that we don’t _have_ to solve this, right? There are police for things like this.”

“We’re already here, Kon.” Tim said, “And you know we could figure this out before the police even make their way up the stairs.”

Conner sighed, then took his glasses off and slid them in the pocket of his suit jacket, the slipped the jacket off and folded it neatly before tucking it away in the corner of the balcony. He unbutton his dress shirt to reveal his undershirt, deep black with a crimson S emblazoned on the front. He threw the dress shirt on top of his folded jacket and turned back to Tim.

Conner was gone, and in his place was Superboy.

“Nice.” Tim said, “I should have thought to pack a domino at least.”

Conner puffed out his chest, “Not everyone can be as prepared as me, I guess.”

A wide grin stretched out over Tim’s face, “I guess.”

Tim stood, with Conner’s camera still in hand, and walked towards Conner. Conner put up little resistance, he opened his arms and waited until Tim was close enough before he reached down and scooped him up into something resembling a bridal carry. It required little effort; they’d done it so many times that it was like second nature. Conner gently pushed himself off the ground and started to float upwards, looking for any sign of broken windows.

They were already fairly high up in the building, but the ballroom the event was being held in wasn’t at the top, so Conner had a bit of drifting to do before they reached the roof. Tim sat comfortably still in his arms, only occasionally shifting as he scrolled through the photos he took on Conner’s camera.

“There are scratch marks on her neck, a sign of a struggle.” Tim said, pointing the cameras small screen in Conner’s direction so he could see, “They look like they come from a human, they’re not deep enough to make me immediately think of a meta.”

“Human-on-human violence,” Conner said, “not exactly what I meant when I was thinking about how boring and pointless this whole night was.”

“This is totally you fault, dude.” Tim smirked, “You willed it into existence.”

Conner rolled his eyes, “Did not.”

“Did to.”

“Did not.”

“Did to.”

“Stop being a child.”

“Make me.”

Before Conner could say anything back, he found what they were looking for. A large window was broken on the second floor from the top of the building, a shattered opening in the glass just big enough for a body to fit through. The wind whipped around them as they got closer, and Tim’s hair became even more disheveled.

“If this was Gotham there’d be about three helicopters circling us right now.” Tim said.

“Be glad we’re not in Gotham then.” Conner drifted through the opening in the broken glass and sat Tim down.

“I am.” Tim said, looking up at Conner with a small smile before running his hands down his chest to smooth out his clothing.

The room they were in was a large executive office. Two of its walls were completely made of windows, and a large desk stood opposite the window they they’d come in. It was dark inside the room, but Conner could see obvious signs of a struggle. Half the items that once were on the desk were strewn across the floor, a broken champagne flute was in pieces against the far wall, a potted plant was broken on the floor by the door, and one of the couches in the office had been flipped onto its back next to a shattered glass coffee table.

“This glass isn’t up to code.” Tim said, “It should be multi-layered, but there’s only a single layer of glass which means anyone, or anything could break in or out without a problem.”

“Wow.” Conner said.

“Yeah.” Tim pulled out a pair of gloves from his pocket, “I assume you don’t have any?”

“Gloves?” Conner asked, Tim nodded, “No, Tim. I do not just carry around a pair of gloves in case I need to investigate a crime scene at the drop of a hat.”

Tim hummed, “Not everyone can be as prepared as me, I guess. I don’t have any with me that would fit your hands.”

Conner sighed, “I won’t touch anything.”

He left Tim to look around the room while Conner pulled out his phone to call Lois. He scrolled through his contacts until he found her, then pressed the call button.

Lois answered on the first ring, “I have been shouting Marshmallow for the last ten minutes!”

“Sorry,” Conner said, “there’s a situation.”

“Does this situation have to do with the _dead woman_ on the balcony?” Lois whispered remarkably loudly. 

“I’m looking into it with a friend.” Conner said, looking back at Tim.

Tim was crouched in front of the wall, looking intently at the broken shards of the champagne flute on the floor.

“The friend I saw come in last minute?” Lois asked, her voice now quiet.

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” Conner said, Tim was waving him over to the wall, “Gotta go, Lois. I’ll keep you updated.”

Conner hung up before Lois could say anything. He walked over to Tim and crouched down next to him.

“What’s up?” Conner asked.

“Look.” Tim pointed at the shards of glass, then at the champagne splashed all over the stone wall in front of them.

“A broken glass?” Conner asked, “What am I looking at.”

“Not the glass, this.” Tim said, he pointed to the outlet on the lower part of the wall that was still dripping with liquid.

Conner leaned in closer, then caught a whiff of the brunt smell of ozone, “Wait, you’re telling me that this took out the entire building.”

“Makes sense.” Tim said.

“A little bit of champagne in a wall outlet can cause a power outage for an entire skyscraper?” Conner asked again, not entirely believing it.

“Faulty wiring.” Tim shrugged, “A quick jolt like that could overload this floor, and then the rest of the building tries to compensate, and then it overexerts itself and goes out completely.”

“Wow.” Conner blinked.

“Bodies falling from the sky, buildings being put together with shoddy construction and faulty wiring, Metropolis is starting to feel more and more like home.”

The lights in the building suddenly came back on, flooding the room with warm light from a few lamps that had been turned on before the outage. The office looked even messier in the light, but Conner couldn’t see blood anywhere.

Conner stood and backed away from the wall, which was when he noticed a trail of champagne leading away from it. He bent down to investigate, and realized that there was more of it leaving a trail towards the door.

Footprints.

They didn’t look like normal footprints though, there was one larger round spot, and then a smaller spot that was only slightly larger than a pinpoint. The two stains were separated by a length of dry, open space.

“High heels.” Conner said to himself, then called Tim over, “I think it was another woman.”

“Why?” Tim asked, standing, and heading towards Conner.

“Look at this, tracks of champagne leading away from the outlet.” Conner pointed to the prints on the floor, “They’re footprints, the larger spot is the toe, and the smaller spot is the heel.”

“Looks like stilettos.” Tim dropped a hand on Conner’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly, “Good catch, Superboy.”

Conner’s phone rang, it was Lois calling again.

“A little busy, Lois.” Conner said when he answered.

The background noise seemed to be louder this time though, and Conner could hear a few people screaming.

“Join the club.” Lois said.

“What’s going on? Are you OK?” Conner asked.

That drew Tim’s attention, he motioned for Conner to put the phone on speaker. Conner pressed the button and Lois’ voice came out loud enough for Tim to hear too.

“We’ve got another body.” Lois said.

“What?” Conner gasped.

“Yeah, a woman just stumbled off the elevator with a letter opener in her jugular.” Lois said, “She came into the ballroom, pulled it out, and covered everyone who was nearby when she did it with arterial blood spray. I've got a room full of bloody, traumatized socialites down here.”

“Shit.” Conner said, “So this homicide is now a double homicide.”

“Looks like it,” Lois said, “the police are on their way, but the power outage in the building slowed them down.”

“That buys us a bit more time.” Tim whispered.

A thought struck Conner, “Lois, what kind of shoes was the woman wearing?”

“What?” Lois asked, obviously confused.

“The woman who got off the elevator,” Conner said, “what kind of shoes was she wearing?”

“Gucci, I think. Stilettos.” Lois said, “Why?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Conner said, then hung up before Lois could say anything else.

“Wow.” Tim said, “Tonight just keeps getting better.”

Conner shook his head, “Only you would get excited over a double homicide.”

“You know this about me, Superboy.” Tim said, “It’s why you love me.”

“Sure.” Conner mumbled to himself, “That’s why.”

“We should figure this out before it gets anymore Agatha Christie in here.” Tim walked over to the desk, “I’m going to check out this computer.”

Conner followed Tim to the desk and looked over it while Tim was no doubt hacking his way past the password. The desk was separated into two halves, the part that had been disturbed by the struggle, and the part that hadn’t. Stray paperwork littered the floor around the right half of the desk, a bin of paperclips had tumbled over and spilled to the side, but what Conner noticed almost immediately was that there was a set of no doubt expensive office equipment being kept in a dedicated container.

It reminded Conner of a knife block, it was a slick piece of stone that had small openings for various things like pens and scissors, and there was only one spot empty. It was a thin slit, probably only big enough to fit one thing.

“I found where the letter opener came from.” Conner said, pointing at the stone.

Tim let out a low whistle, “Those things are expensive.”

“Any luck on the computer?” Conner asked.

Tim nodded, “I’m almost in.”

Conner looked at the nameplate on the desk. The name Andy Meck was embossed on the metal front, and there was a photo of a man and a woman on the desk next to it. Conner assumed the man in the photo was Andy Meck, and the woman next to him was the same woman who had fallen from the window of the office.

Conner picked up his camera and scrolled through the pictures of the woman’s body until he got to one where he could see her left hand. There was a golden band around her ring finger, which meant that she was probably Andy Meck’s wife.

“This is the office of the guy who was married to the woman who fell out of the window.” Conner said, “Andy Meck.”

Tim pulled out his phone and typed something out, then looked up a second later, “Which would make her Sandra Meck, married to Andy Meck for the last five years.”

“So we have a dead wife, another dead woman who possibly killed the dead wife, and a man in the middle of it all.” Conner said, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Affair gone wrong?” Tim asked, “Yep.”

Conner looked back at the window, then at the outlet on the wall, “Scenario One: Sandra finds out about the mistress, Sandra confronts the mistress in her husbands office, they fight, someone throws a drink on the other, the power goes out, Sandra takes advantage of the darkness and stabs the mistress, and the mistress hits Sandra in the head and pushes her out of the window, then the mistress goes downstairs and dies.”

Tim shook his head, “There’s no blood in this room, so the mistress probably wasn’t stabbed in here. There’s also no sign of whatever Sandra was hit in the head with.”

“Scenario two: Mistress kills wife, threatens the husband, then husband kills mistress.”

“That’s more likely, but I’m still not sold. Hold on, I just accessed Andy Meck’s phone.” Tim said, then read a text out loud, “From Sandra: _I know about your whore, meet me upstairs or I’ll tell everyone_. And that kids is why you should never synch your phone with your computer, it always leads to trouble.”

Conner tapped his chin, “Scenario three: Husband and wife fight, husband kills wife, mistress is a witness and tries to run away, husband then kills mistress to stop her from saying anything.”

“I think we have a winner.” Tim said, he looked up from the computer and smiled at Conner, “Nice detective work, Superboy.”

Conner rubbed the back of his head and averted his eyes from Tim, “I guess I had a good teacher or something.”

Tim stood up from the desk and walked towards Conner, “Andy Meck is probably still somewhere in the building. He couldn’t have taken the elevator after because the power was still out, and the stairs probably slowed him down.”

A sound from the doorway drew Conner attention, and he looked up to see Andy Meck standing there. His white shirt was covered in splashes of blood, he had a bloody letter opener in one hand, and a heavy looking sculpture dashed in blood in the other.

“Who the fuck are you?” Andy Meck yelled.

“Wow,” Tim blinked, “guess we didn’t have to go that far to find him.”

“Find me?” Andy spat, “I’m not going fucking anywhere with you!”

“Mr. Meck, the police are on their way.” Tim said, “You should put down the weapons, it’ll be easier for you that way.”

“Fuck you!” Andy yelled, crossing the room towards Tim, “Fuck all of you! Fuck Sandra, that fucking bitch! Fuck Claire, she wouldn’t fucking stop screaming about how she just saw me kill someone! I just wanted her to be quiet!”

Tim cocked his head to the side, “Are you sure you’re not from Gotham?”

“Stop antagonizing him!” Conner hissed, “Mr. Meck, I’m sorry, but we can’t let you leave.” 

Conner saw the exact moment Andy raised the statue to swing it at Tim. He moved before Andy’s arm was even hallway up, dashing across the room and wrenching the statue from Andy’s hand with ease. Tim took a step back, apparently content to let Conner deal with this one.

The loss of one weapon only made Andy even angrier, he raised the letter opener and jabbed it in Conner’s chest. It pierced the shirt, but shattered when the tip of the blade hit Conner’s skin. Andy’s eyes went wide, he took a step backwards and turned towards the door to run, which was when Tim slid over the desk and kicked him in the back of the knee.

Andy collapsed into a heap on the floor without making a sound. As soon as he was down, Tim grabbed him by the back of the neck, applied pressure with two of his fingers, and then Andy Meck went still.

“He’ll be out for an hour or so.” Tim said, standing up and dusting his hands off.

“Was that your Voltron Death Star thing?” Conner asked.

Tim stared at him dumbfounded, “I don’t even know how to tell you how wrong that was and how much it physically pained me to hear it.”

Conner frowned, “What did I get wrong?”

“I don't have enough time to tell you that.” Tim laughed, “We should probably get back downstairs and tell the police where he is.”

Tim was right, Superboy had a lot to explain to the police _and_ Lois.

Conner was more worried about Lois than the police.

Conner looked down at Andy, then back at the hole in the widow, “You wanna take the short way or the long way?”

Tim grabbed Conner’s camera off the desk and walked over to the broken window. He turned the camera on, then sat it down on the ground next to the ledge of the window.

“You really want to annoy Bruce?” Tim asked, a wide smile on his face.

It was always impossible to say no to Tim when he looked like that, even when Conner knew that whatever Tim wanted to do was a bad idea. Even worse was that when Tim did smile like that, Conner never thought any of Tim’s bad ideas were bad until after they were already done.

"Always."

X

A knock at the door drew Conner’s attention. Krypto jumped down from his spot on the couch and followed Conner to the door. It wasn’t a long walk, Conner’s apartment wasn’t anything exciting, just barely big enough to fit himself and Krypto comfortably. Whoever Conner expected to see when he opened the door, it certainly wasn't Tim standing there with a cup of coffee in one hand and something rolled up in the other.

It’d only been two days since the last time they saw each other, but Tim looked like he hadn’t slept at all in those two days.

Which was probably true because it was Tim Drake.

“Hey?” Conner said, staring at Tim.

Tim didn’t say anything, he just smiled lazily and held up a copy of the Daily Planet. Conner’s eyes flicked over it, smiling when he saw what was on the front page.

**Mayhem in Metropolis: Superboy Solves Double Homicide in Record Time! **

**Story by Lois Lane **

**Photos by Conner Kent **

Right underneath the headline was a photo of Conner mid-flight, slightly turned away from the camera so you could just barely see the profile of his face, with someone in his arms. You couldn’t see the face of the person who was with him, but a bright green cast stood out like a beacon against the black fabric of Conner’s shirt.

“Nice picture.” Tim smiled, “You’re a very gifted photographer.”

Conner huffed, “Don’t let Jimmy here you.”

Tim shifted, and Conner finally realized that he had a bag slung over his shoulder, and another one at his feet. He’d seen Tim with some kind of bag before, but never two, and never two that looked as stuffed full as the ones he had with him now.

“Is everything OK?” Conner asked.

Tim looked down at the bag at his feet, then back at Conner, “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re standing at my front door with two suitcases, Tim.” Conner said softly, “It seems like a big deal.”

“I’m just taking a vacation.” Tim shrugged.

“A vacation?” Conner echoed.

“You always tell me I need to take a vacation, so I’m taking one.” Tim said, “I have tons of time off I never use at WE, I can’t do much as Red Robin with this cast, and Cass told me she’d find out if I cut it off, which I don’t doubt at all, so I’m taking a vacation.”

“Where are you going?” Conner asked.

Tim’s answer was half an awkward smile, half a shrug, “Here?”

“Here?” Conner echoed again.

“Yes.” Tim said.

“In Metropolis?”

“Yes.”

“You’re taking a vacation…in Metropolis.”

“Yes.”

Conner sighed, stepped to the side, and motioned for Tim to come inside, “You really want to stay here?”

“Where else would I want to stay?” Tim asked.

“One of the dozens of hotels in this city?” Conner shrugged.

“The hotels don’t come with Krypto.” Tim laughed.

Krypto, as excitable as ever, spun around once before jumping in the air and flying towards Tim. Tim met Krypto halfway and hugged him while Krypto was still in mid-air. Krypto licked Tim’s face, and Tim laughed and hugged him tighter.

Conner couldn’t help but laugh, “Ah, so you’re just here cuz of the dog.”

Tim looked up from Krypto and smiled when he caught Conner’s eye, “You’re pretty good company too, Kon.”

Conner stared at him, but Tim turned away and went back to playing with Krypto. Krypto tackled Tim to the floor and pinned him down, Tim struggled but they both know it was useless. Eventually Tim gave up and let Krypto completely dishevel his hair with his tongue.

Conner rolled his eyes and picked up one of Tim’s suitcases so it wasn’t sitting in the middle of the living room.

“I’ll make the couch up for you in a bit,” Conner said, walking towards the hall closet to get extra blankets for Tim, “It’s small, but it’s pretty comfortable to sleep on.”

Tim sat up on the floor, finally free of Krypto’s grasp, “It’s perfect.”

Conner looked back at Tim on the floor of his tiny apartment that barely fit himself and Krypto, at the way Krypto immediately curled up next to Tim, and smiled, “Yeah, it is.”


End file.
